


degrees

by fairbanks



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Burnplay, Burns, F/F, Minor Character Death, Sexual Content, The Magnus Archives Pairings Week, Violence, aka of a npc for this story, not edited, sort of? it's more implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairbanks/pseuds/fairbanks
Summary: The pain is getting too much, seeping up her arm. There's smoke and it's choking her lungs. Daisy swears she hears the thing underneath her whisper something as her head swims dangerously."You're wasted on them."





	degrees

The whole thing starts with a gunshot.

An upside to spiraling down the deep was how very little Daisy needed to care about things like protocol anymore. Those brief moments where she'd think 'is this too much to cover up,' or 'is this worth the trouble' are all but gone, vanished completely with those very rare times before where she thought 'is this the right thing to do?' 

There was no right thing in a clean little package. If there was, Daisy stopped caring so long ago it's hard to pinpoint.

She shoots the thing, because the woman in front of her was a thing. Elias wanted her to clear these 'Lightless Flame' from some area before they left nothing but scorched earth, Jonathan tried to give her 'tips,' like she was _new_ to this. It was satisfying, she'll admit, the way he shut up the moment she looked his way. He knew she'd be glad to sink her hands into his throat until his lungs burned.

Daisy shoots the thing because it didn't run when she walks in, just smiled in a way that sizzled. Daisy lifts her gun and fires point blank into her head.

The thing falls, but before Daisy can do anymore the thing gets up again. Half her temple is wrenched off, the skin stripped and a noxious, charred surface peeking out from underneath. The skin is not skin, Daisy realizes, and remembers talk of wax. Yes, the way the creature's skin molded around the wound was like drying wax.

The thing smiles brightly at her, all teeth against waxy gums. "Oh, I _like_ you."

Daisy shoots again, even knowing it will do nothing. The thing before her is pierced through the gut and laughs in _ecstasy_ , like the bullet wound is exquisite. 

Daisy jaw cramps with how tightly she's clenching it, a rage bubbling up in her she can barely put a name to. Even if she emptied her gun it'd mean nothing, and as the thing approaches it scratches at it's forehead to fix the injured wax.

"Elias really has all the fun lately, doesn't he? He's usually smarter than putting his foot in it but..." The thing sighs in a breathy way, more for show than anything else because it surely doesn't need lungs. Daisy imagines the smell of sulfur on it's breath. Why not, right? "I guess I can't blame him for tipping the scales here and there. Nothing an observer likes more than a _catalyst._ "

"I'm not here to talk." Daisy tells it, gun raised.

It laughs again, pulls a long strip of wax off its temple. "No, a leashed dog doesn't talk. It growls and barks."

Daisy gets three more bullets out before the gun goes too hot to hold, dropping out of her grip before the bullets inside explode out on their own, gunpowder ignited. That laughter doesn't stop and neither does Daisy, lips curling back in a snarl that has the wax thing laughing all the more, 'little dog' on its lips.

Daisy punches it and her entire hand is engulfed in pain. She doesn't _care._ She punches again, and again, wax dripping off her knuckles, her own skin blistered and cracking. They're on the floor now, Daisy straddling the thing and her other hand holding its shoulder. The cloth barrier of the thing's shirt doesn't make the heat any more bearable. She punches again, and the wax woman staring up at her look _enraptured_ , even with half its face a muddled pit of wax.

The pain is getting too much, seeping up her arm. There's smoke and it's choking her lungs. She swears she hears the thing underneath her whisper something as her head swims dangerously.

"You're _wasted_ on them."

Daisy wakes up to burnt knuckles and an empty room. Pieces of wax litter the floor, and her ruined gun still sits where it had fallen. She sits up, struggles not to throw her phone across the room when she dials Elias.

"They're gone. Cleared them out but that thing got away."

"I know," Elias tells her, and she gives up, throwing her phones hard against the wall.

 

\---

 

Basira said nothing when she patched up Daisy's wounds. It's something Daisy always liked about her- smart, quiet, knows when to butt in and when to keep her mouth shut. If she wasn't so damnably moral about everything she probably could have made it far in the force, sectioned or not. The best skill to have there was knowing exactly when to shut up.

Without a real job now Daisy hops from places, seedy motels or Basira's couch, restless and chained to that bastard Elias' whim. He's smart enough not to bother her often, doesn't poke at the embers she always feels churning in her gut. She waits, longingly, for the chance to bash his head against the floor until all that gray matter is just a halo around where his skull should be. Maybe it would look like a daisy, if the shards of skull and skin splattered the right way.

(Part of her, a damnable, unavoidable part of her almost hopes for Basira's death. The second she dies, the _second_ she's gone, she'll peel Elias' eyes. She'll press them out with her thumbs and feed them to him. She'll watch him choke on them as they all die screaming.)

She's halfway through a bottle of something strong when there's a knock on the door. Her motel is just as ratty as any other, but she was never one for creature comforts anyway, only indulging in her drink and a shower that went cold too fast, the towel still wrapped around her drying hair. She expects Basira, so she grunts, unlocks the door, and turns to get her drink. When she turns back that wax thing from before is smiling at her, no longer torn and gunshot.

"Give me one fucking reason not to shoot you again," Daisy says, expecting the laughter she still remembers so vividly, even with the haze of that day. The thing in wax does not disappoint, laughing and slinking in, collapsing on a chair as if it was welcome.

"I'd rather you use your fists, but we wouldn't want to burn those talented fingers off just yet, would we?" It croons, watching Daisy pick up her drink, watching her throat as she swallows it in one smooth shot. It sighs, long and drawn, eyes fluttering with the motion. "What we could have done with you..."

Daisy always adapted. As she finishes the drink she yanks the damp towel from her head, wrapping it around her injured hand before shattering the glass against the table. She expects the thing to move, react but instead it watches her with that same breathless delight, even as she blocks it in the chair and puts a shard of glass to its throat.

"Whatever the hell you are I'll find a way to kill you." She tells it, teeth grit and that old, familiar burn of rage smoldering. "You god damn freaks, spewing cryptic nonsense just to get a rise out of everyone, like this is all some game us little folk are the set pieces for. I'm _no_ set piece, you insane bitch."

"No," It breaths. It's delight is palpable. "You're not."

The struggle is brief, she thinks, and it ends with Daisy on the floor. Her hand is still wrapped in the damp towel, the cloth now steaming in the heat, and the glass is at the thing's throat. The wax around its jugular is scratched, and it doesn't mind. 

Perry's hands hold her down, one on each shoulder, and while they are hot to the point of pain they do not burn. It leans in and says, "Show me how you'd make me _suffer._ "

The heat makes the glass shard crack but Daisy drives it still into the wax of its neck. The pieces dig deep, shattering in the wound as Daisy's hand shakes with exertion, and the creature above her croons deep in her throat. The sound shouldn't do things to Daisy, the messy violence of the thing's neck in bloodless, waxy gashes shouldn't fuel the all too pleasant burn on her skin. The thing that was once Jude Perry leans up, biting at her collar, and its teeth burn her skin.

Daisy grabs Perry's throat with her covered hand, slamming her down to the floor. "You really think I'm going to play this game with you?"

Perry's laughter grates her skin. "You already _are._ "

Daisy snarls as takes Jude Perry apart.

 

\---

 

"Daisy, what's actually going on?"

Basira's sharp, and even if she wasn't it would be quite the task to hide the burns from her. They litter Daisy's arms, dot up her neck. There's one right at her jawline where Perry pressed her lips to Daisy's skin. There are several over her shoulders in the shape of teeth.

"Don't ask, Basira." Daisy knows it's pointless to hide from Basira, thoughtful, clever Basira and her dark, sharp eyes. She does anyway, because this sick game of Perry's isn't for her.

Basira's touch doesn't burn, it's gentle and quiet on Daisy's arm, careful not to press the bandages there. Part of Daisy wishes she would. "Don't lose yourself, Daisy."

Daisy wants to tell her there's so much of herself that should be lost. Instead she nods. "Yeah. Always."

 

\---

 

The last motel she stayed in burned down, and Daisy doesn't blink at the news of the two families that died in the blaze. She should care but she doesn't, just promises herself she'll peel the wax off Jude the next time she sees it and find whatever is uses to stay alive. She'll crush that core, and it will all be over.

Daisy doesn't, not the next meeting, or the meeting after that. She doesn't make excuses, just relishes in the ache of the burns down her legs.

(Perry kisses the inside of her thighs and Daisy watches it, eyes sharp. Its lips make her skin sting but not blister. As Perry moves up Daisy calculates, enjoys the edge she peters on. 

It was like Russian roulette, each press of Perry's lips and fingers come with the danger of a bullet. When Perry finally starts working her open with her tongue it's uncomfortable hot and Daisy's breath hitches. Every swipe of that tongue could burn her inside out and yet-)

The thing is waiting outside of the diner Daisy leaves. It smiles at her, eyes raking over the burns visible on her collar. 

"I have a gift for you," it says, and Daisy sneers.

"You think I trust that?"

It laughs and laughs. "You think you won't come anyway?"

They head to a spot Perry shouldn't know- her body dump, the last resting place of Michael Crew and countless others. It's empty save for a man struggling in his bindings, wrists handcuffed behind his back and a gag in his mouth. 

Perry sits on the hood of the car and watches, eyes lit with an unholy glee. "For you."

"The fuck is this?" Daisy demands, fingers itching to tear at Perry's wax shell when the creature just laughs. She turns, kneels to look at the man better, and when she catches his eyes she feels like she's... she's falling, getting sucked into something dark and deep and impossible, she's being crushed by the force of nothing at all and that's all there is, nothing nothing nothing nothing-

Her burns throb and she blinks rapidly, tearing her gaze away. Perry laughs still.

"Wouldn't make eye contact, _Daisy._ " It always did draw out her nickname with a relish. "Just a helpful little hint."

"What is this thing?" Daisy stands, kicks the man hard and enjoys the way he groans when he tries to catch her eye again.

"You'd call him a monster. I'd call him an irritating little prick." Perry tilts its head, eyes never leaving her. "I say it's a gift but really, it's for me too. You love killing monsters, don't you _Daisy?_ With _such_ unmitigated violence. I want to watch."

"I get enough damn kill orders from that bastard Bouchard, what makes you think I'm going to play into your sick little fantasies?" Daisy snaps, fingers trembling with

she doesn't know. Perry's smile is all teeth. 

"Because they aren't just _my_ fantasies, are they?" It says nothing about how Daisy's fingers twitch against her side. Daisy wonders if Elias is watching now. "Would you like me to let him go? Let you chase him down?"

Daisy caves in his skull with the heel of her boot. Its skull. She leaves a crater where its eyes once were.

When she has Perry pressed against the hood of her car, cackling and squirming and slick around her fingers, Daisy thinks about how very much she'll enjoy doing the same to Perry one day.

Perry sighs into her ear and says, "You... are so _wasted_ on them."


End file.
